


Delayed Departure

by aloha_cowgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Puns, Dirty Dentists, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Mention of Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-10 03:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21459937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloha_cowgirl/pseuds/aloha_cowgirl
Summary: “Flight’s delayed,” Gabriel said with a smile that made Meg roll her eyes. “Snowstorm south of Chicago.”She groaned, raising an annoyed brow toward him. “Then why are you so chipper?”“More time to get to know one another,” he said with a wink.
Relationships: Gabriel/Meg Masters
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8
Collections: Demon Void Army - Family Album





	Delayed Departure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Petrichora_Vellichor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petrichora_Vellichor/gifts).

Meg Masters didn’t believe in true love.

Meg Masters was also the author of a prestigious wedding column in the New York Times. One might wonder why someone that doesn’t believe in true love would pursue such a career, but the answer to that is easy: _perks_.

As it turns out, if one has a penchant for flowery descriptions of boring ceremonies and pointless vows, and a keen ability to squeeze out a little on-the-record gossip from a tipsy mother-of-the-groom, one also gets free vacations every few weeks that include at least one guaranteed night of top-shelf booze and gourmet hors d’oeuvres.

She was seated at a table in a generic coffee shop in the middle of a noisy airport on a long layover, when a shorter-than-average blonde man with the dimples of a schoolboy dropped his bag on the floor under her table. He moved Meg’s bag from its place on the other chair to the floor beside his own, claiming the now empty chair for himself.

Normally Meg travelled alone, basking in the anonymity of a new town every other week. However, this morning, her boss Crowley informed her that Gabriel, another columnist from the office, would be travelling with her. She suspected waiting until the last minute to tell her had been a tactical move to avoid the inevitable argument that Meg would have undoubtedly had if she hadn’t already been in an Uber on the way to the airport.

“Flight’s delayed,” Gabriel said with a smile that made Meg roll her eyes. “Snowstorm south of Chicago.”

She groaned, raising an annoyed brow toward him. “Then why are you so chipper?”

“More time to get to know one another,” he said with a wink.

Meg closed her eyes with a sigh and rubbed her forehead, attempting to stave off a headache. “_Why_ are you here again? You don’t even cover weddings. Besides, I told Crowley I’ve got it covered. Is it about the Becky Rosen incident? Because there isn’t even a bridezilla to deal with this time—two grooms!”

Castiel Shurley, founder of the Healing Hands charity foundation, and restaurateur Dean Winchester would be tying the knot at some fancy resort on the Chicago River this Saturday. They weren’t quite the social elite that she usually wrote about, but they had a rags to riches story and were now up-and-coming names in the area.

Gabriel grinned and Meg hated how he always looked like sunshine on a cloudy day. He was well-suited for his job—writing fluff pieces about the selfless do-gooders of the world.

“Oh, I’m not here to babysit you. I’m interviewing Castiel Shurley about his charity, although I _am_ interested in hearing about the Becky Rosen incident now.” Meg shook her head, so Gabriel continued. “Cassie also happens to be my baby brother. I’m his best man.”

Meg met him with a stare. “Shurley,” she said, finally making the connection. “Castiel Shurley is your brother.”

“You got it, babe.”

She rolled her eyes as she stood to gather her belongings. “Guess there’s really no getting rid of you then. Come on.” Gabriel tilted his head in question as he gathered his bag up again to follow her. “I’m gonna need something stronger than coffee,” she said leading the way to the airport bar.

***

_“You said the flight was delayed! Snowstorm south of Chicago!”_

“It_ was _delayed!” Gabriel rebutted, “Just… not quite as delayed as _we_ were.”

Meg didn’t even know how to argue back. They had spent too long at the airport bar. They’d been chatting over drinks for so long that they lost track of time and apparently stopped paying attention to the announcements at some point.

She covered her face with her hands, her voice muffled as she complained, “I can’t believe we missed the damn flight.”

Gabriel calmly gripped her by the shoulders and steered her away from the counter. She was still feeling a little drunk and pouting seemed easier than having to deal with this mess, so she allowed it, slumping into a molded plastic chair.

“I’ve got this,” Gabriel assured her before he turned to return to the counter. He sounded so damn _sincere_. Meg would probably just yell at someone that didn’t deserve it anyway and even though she hadn’t actually done so, she felt guilty for it.

She watched as Gabriel spoke with the woman behind the counter. He was a better people-person than Meg was anyway. Everyone liked Gabriel. She couldn’t see his face, only the back of his wavy blonde head, but she knew he was being charming. He was always charming. An annoyingly charming ray of sunshine.

After what seemed like ages (but was probably no more than five minutes), Gabriel sat down in the seat beside her.

_“Well?”_ Meg asked impatiently when he didn’t speak immediately.

“Well… first of all, she thought you were my wife and she felt very sorry for me.” Meg narrowed her eyes at Gabriel’s amusement. “Anyway, there’s another flight, but not until tomorrow morning. I was able to talk her into a free room at the airport hotel.”

Maybe she was drunker than she thought she was, because she only hesitated for a moment before giving in. “Fine.”

***

_“GABRIEL! This is not FINE!”_

Gabriel, however, was chuckling as he dropped his bag on the end of the only bed and began digging through it. “Oh, come on, Meg. I told you she thought you were my wife!”

“And you didn’t correct her?!”

“I needed to play up the sympathy! It’s _fine_. We’re both adults, besides—”

“_Are we? Are we BOTH adults—?”_

“The front desk guy said we were their last check-in of the night. They’re completely booked up.”

Meg closed her eyes, seething.

“Apparently there’s a dental convention. There’s some kind of tartar symposium in the conference room if you’re interested. I bet I could wrangle us some name badges.”

Meg glared. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously cute? Yeah, I know.”

Meg chose not to respond to that. Instead she sat on the corner of the bed, still a little dizzy from the drinks.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know this,” he gestured to the king size bed, “is not ideal for you. I promise, no funny stuff. We’ll sleep, probably have time for some breakfast in the morning, and then we’ll get on a plane and forget this ever happened.”

Meg felt a little guilty. It really wasn’t all Gabriel’s fault, and this definitely beat being stuck in an uncomfortable chair in the terminal all night.

"I’m gonna go shower,” Gabriel said, brandishing a handful of clothes toward the bathroom door. “If you want to change, I promise I’ll announce myself before I come out of there.”

It was then that Meg noticed it. Gabriel seemed quieter. Careful. _Nervous_. She smirked.

“Afraid you’ll see something you won’t like?” she asked.

Gabriel coughed and moved quickly toward the bathroom. “Oh ho, no. No, no, not the problem. Not the problem _at all_.” The door shut quickly behind him and Meg stifled what might have been a giggle.

When she could hear the water running on the other side of the wall, she changed into a pair of soft leggings and her favorite NYU t-shirt. As she pulled on an oversized loose-knit cardigan, she could hear loud singing coming from bathroom. _Ray of fucking sunshine, _she thought.

They’d known each other for a few years now, but only as co-workers. Meg tended to stay to herself when she worked in the office, but everyone knew Gabriel. He was always cheery, upbeat and mischievous. _Annoyingly charming_. Needless to say, their interactions were pretty limited to Gabriel flirting or teasing and Meg pretending to be annoyed, though she really didn’t mind. Even if he was a goofy distraction sometimes, he was admittedly on the short list of people she didn’t completely hate—not that she’d ever let him know that.

But today in the airport bar they’d actually had a real conversation. He’d insisted on buying her drink and went on to tell her about his brother and future brother-in-law. It was obvious that he was fond of the two and it seemed that he was genuinely looking forward to their wedding.

By her third drink, Meg had already divulged more about her personal life than she had ever intended. She explained that she didn’t have much family, but she liked being able to move around without feeling anchored down.

“It’s nice to have someone to hold on to sometimes,” Gabriel had responded, and for some reason that resonated through the fuzziness of her buzz. By the time Meg had finished her fourth drink, Gabriel, who had stopped after his second, decided they should probably head toward their gate and took it upon himself to carry both of their bags.

Now Meg just felt awkward waiting there, listening to the sound of the water and Gabriel’s singing. She was starting to get impatient, so she sat on the end of the bed with the remote and flipped aimlessly though the channels.

_“What am I even waiting for?” _she wondered aloud_._ The thought successfully distracted her from the channel surfing, leaving the screen on a purple menu that she couldn’t be bothered to read right now. Her thoughts were loud enough to drown out the fact that the shower and the singing had both stopped.

“Is it safe to come out?” Gabriel asked loudly through the door.

“Yes, you idiot,” she called, rolling her eyes with an exasperated smile.

Gabriel emerged from the bathroom looking different from the man that Meg was used to. He was wearing soft blue flannel pants and a grey t-shirt that stretched nicely over his shoulders. His hair was still damp, falling in little curls around his ears.

“You wear glasses,” Meg said dumbly as soon as she noticed the rectangular frames.

“Um, yeah. Superman during the day. Clark Kent at night.”

“I like them.”

Gabriel gave her a slight smirk while her brain mentally berated her mouth for not checking in before speaking.

“Casa Erotica III, eh?” Gabriel pointed at the purple menu on the television as he pulled back the bedcovers. “Bold choice. The second one was better, though.”

“What?” Meg was suddenly met with the realization that she’d stopped on the pay-per-view menu and was still sitting at the end of the bed with the remote in her hand. “Oh! Hell no. Don’t get your hopes up, big boy.”

She hit the power button and turned around to find Gabriel leaning against the headboard grinning.

“’Big boy,’ huh?”

“Shut up.” She reached back to snatch up a pillow and throw it at his face, though instead of hitting him, the pillow was caught and tucked behind his head.

Meg rose from the bed and dug through her bag for her toothbrush.

“You look different without all the leather and boots and that ‘fuck off’ sign you wear at work,” Gabriel commented as she crossed the room. “It’s nice. Almost like a real person.”

“I’m a real person,” Meg called through the open bathroom door, a little hurt, “I just don’t like distractions.” She brushed her teeth quickly, trying to escape the smell of Gabriel’s soap that lingered in the still-damp air. It smelled like cedar and musk and it was dangerously intoxicating.

Back in the room, Gabriel sat quietly against the headboard with a book open. She was curious about this Clark Kent side of the boisterous man. She wondered what he liked to read and whether he always read quietly at night. She pushed the questions from her head and slipped her sweater off before sliding under the covers on the empty side of the bed and pulling the blanket up to her chin.

Gabriel looked down, catching her eyes as he pointed to the lamp. “I can turn this off if you want.”

“No, no. You’re fine. I mean…” She shook her head. “What are you reading anyway?”

The book looked old—a hardcover with faded gold lettering on the spine that was too small to read from her position. Gabriel turned book so he could look at the plain cover.

“Oh, this? _Busty Asian Beauties_. First edition.”

Meg laughed and turned on her side to kick his leg. Her foot found Gabriel’s bare foot instead and she couldn’t ignore the little shock of skin to skin contact. “You’re an ass.”

Gabriel smirked down at her. “Yeah, but you like me anyway.”

Meg pulled the blanket a little higher to hide the little smile that her mouth had permitted without checking in with her brain again. They stayed that way in silence for a minute or two, with Gabriel reading and Meg trying to sort out her thoughts, until Gabriel broke the silence.

_“’I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul. The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me. The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate _ _into a new tongue.’”_

“That doesn’t sound like _Busty Asian Beauties_,” Meg noted with a raised brow.

Gabriel shrugged. “Walt Whitman.” When Meg gave him an impressed nod, he added, “I’m a man of many layers.”

“So I’m learning,” Meg said. _Damn it_, she thought, quickly losing the inner battle she’d been fighting off.

Gabriel closed his book and set it aside, folding his glasses and setting them on top before a click of the lamp plunged them into darkness. There was a rustle of sheets and the sudden scent of cedar and musk as he slid down onto his pillow and pulled the blanket over him.

Meg waited. She didn’t know what she was waiting for, but she waited for _something_.

But nothing happened.

It didn’t seem that Gabriel was asleep yet either. _Maybe he’s laying here waiting for nothing too_, she thought. She turned onto her side and curled up under the blanket. In the dim light she could see the rise and fall of Gabriel’s chest and hear the slow inhale of each breath. It was soothing. After a short while, Meg felt her tension melting away and she finally dozed off.

A couple hours later, Meg woke up to the sound of _thunk! thunk! _coming from the other side of the wall. She opened one eye, dazed in the darkness while the sound continued. Gabriel was still asleep, more or less in the spot where he’d dozed off. Meg, however, was not.

In her sleep, she’d somehow gravitated toward his warmth—not cuddling, per se, but close enough that her forehead was touching his bicep and her hand rested at the crook of his elbow. She carefully slid away, but between the _thunk!_ and the sudden loss of her touch, Gabriel rubbed a hand over his face before squinting over at Meg.

“What the hell is that?” Meg asked, hoping he hadn’t realized that she’d moved. “Are they—?”

“Fucking dentists.”

A moan came through the wall as the _thunk!_ that Meg now registered as the headboard hitting the wall increased tempo.

“Sounds like he’s really drilling her,” she deadpanned. “The sexy kind of drilling.”

Gabriel laughed with his whole body, or at least as well as he could while laying down. He turned on his side to face her, smirking as he leaned on an elbow to prop his head up. “Filling all her cavities, I’d bet.”

Now it was Meg’s turn to laugh. She turned on her side, mirroring his position. “I bet he’s got his root in her canal right now.”

“He’ll probably just poke around awhile and leave a bad taste in her mouth when it’s all over.”

Meg had to duck her head because she was actually giggling now, but it was too late. Gabriel saw her. Thankfully he didn’t tease her, but just grinned as he watched.

“You’re an idiot,” she said.

“You started it,” he countered.

Finally, the noises on the other side of the wall subsided, leaving the pair smiling at one another in silence. After a content sigh, Meg laid her head back on her pillow and Gabriel followed suit.

“Go back to sleep,” Meg said.

Gabriel turned onto his back again, looking up at the ceiling. “Okay. But… just so you know… if you wanted to come closer again, I won’t mind it.”

There was a brief moment of panic that tightened Meg’s chest, but she let it go with an exhale. And after a moment’s hesitation, she slid back to the place where she’d woken up, touching her forehead to his bicep and her hand at the crook of his elbow. They stayed that way only for a minute or so before Gabriel pulled his arm away and tucked it around her back. Meg slid closer to his side and rested her head on his chest.

It was probably a bad idea, but then again, she’d never been one to deny herself an adventure.


End file.
